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The Indigenius' Den by Ankit Kumar is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 India License.
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Saturday, September 13, 2008

Blood on the Staircase

Here’s a famed fable about four souls—
Lust, Envy, Wrath and Greed;
Destiny brought them together
And the gods made their fortunes speed.

Though at the face of it—
It does seem a dysfunctional unit.
Still, there was laughter and there was mirth
And a keen camaraderie was allowed birth.

But, right from the outset it was known,
This pretence wouldn’t last long.
For everyone knows — witty or deranged,
Human nature has seldom changed!

In a house up the beach,
They stayed together till morning reached.
The house was huge with two floors,
But most rooms had no doors!

Greed was anxious and Lust was in symphony,
They had two lustrous dames for company!
What with only two functional rooms in the huge bungalow,
And the two wenches apart after a big row.

Lust came to Envy’s aid,
He considered her the prettier maid.
Sobbing was she with her eyes red,
And deep down wanted Wrath dead!

The two couples went different ways
In the even, away from the sun’s rays,
They talked and the men tried their best
For reconciliation—but couldn’t pass the test.

The two men, beside themselves with joy,
Were anything but coy;
As twilight drew nearer,
Things became a little clearer.

The fit of rage consuming the two members,
Was born out of jealousy and anger,
The reason why Wrath was far from mellow,
Was that Envy had stolen her fellow.

The foursome reached the sleepy bungalow,
Which, by night, had a hazy glow;
The moon was out, with a calm face,
And its light filled up the empty space.

The couples cordially departed
Into separate rooms, which were parted
By a thin wall which offered little privacy,
And the ladies hadn’t yet reached normalcy!

The two men were up for the job,
To contain the women, lest they sob,
But, Wrath was in a fit of rage,
Which Greed found difficult to assuage.

Night brought a pacifying effect,
And Slumber didn’t defect,
Its honey-heavy dew did the trick,
Which made the men a little sick!

The ambience was cosy inside,
Though a storm was raging outside,
A thunderclap yelped a terrible shout,
That was when the lights went out.

Darkness enveloped the entire house,
And a cat triumphantly caught an elusive mouse,
Envy got up for a glass of water,
She heard the rain pitter-patter.

She seemed in a pleasant mood,
Singing to herself, she didn’t brood;
Just then a hand came up from behind,
Which had her neck in a tight bind.

Moments later, there was a loud shriek,
And a falling body made the staircase creak.
The other members ran out,
No longer in slumber, without a doubt!

The trio saw a bloody sight,
Which had Envy in a horrid plight
Slowly she raised her wrist,
But died in the hazy midst...

Though this secret is death to hide,
It is you, who has to decide,
Was it he or was it she?—
Who caused the sudden demise!


loner said...

nice work man ................ i get a feel of a story and a poem .....bind togater into one sublime art has more speed dan ny one of urs.......... very well crafted imagination and we;; thought comparisons .................. awesome work......... u cn start writng for money ...........smone will pay to print ya stuff ...........carry on

MADHU RAO | (INDImag.COM) said...

Beautiful !

We have a story writing contest and would love to see you participate. Tell a story with a poem like above.

INDImag’s Katha Sagar Contest. USD $150/- in Prizes

Stories have a way of connecting people and touching their hearts. Like a good cup of coffee, a thriller can stimulates one’s senses and linger on far after enjoying it, while at the diametric opposite end of the spectrum, a story that your grandmother narrated to you as a kid, soothed you to sleep and filled you with sweet dreams.

Stories, like clay, provide an endless medium of possibilities limited only by the author’s imagination. We want to unleash a sea of these stories. Hence Katha Sagar..

puneet k said...

its Good . i got inspired to write something after reading it.